The Book
by Foosemittee
Summary: The tale of a girl who finds herself in a world she doesn't understand after helping an elderly neighbor. After the woman dies, she leaves her house and her legacy of witchcraft to Greer, who has no idea what's going on.
1. Cats on Bird Street

Greer stood in front of the white picket fence, waiting.

"Do you think Ms. Hale is really a witch?" one of the younger children asked, looking up at her in awe.

"Nonsense," Greer scoffed, taking the kitten from him. "There's no such animal." The children of Bird Street stood in front of Ms. Hale's garden. Through the garden, mossy stones led up to the porch of the Victorian manor that had been painted green long ago. In the middle of the garden stood a plum tree older than the house…some said that it was older than the town itself. Rumors said that the plums were what made old Ms. Hale live so long, and that was why she'd chase off intruders with a broom, trying to protect the sacred fruit. This broom was also featured in the legend of Ms. Hale; as were her many black cats.

"You go," a younger child insisted, opening the gate in front of Greer. "We'll wait." Rolling her eyes, sixteen-year-old Greer Everett headed to the front door. While she was babysitting some neighborhood children, they'd found a little black kitten caught in a rat trap. Fortunately, the trap was a humane one, or it would have been a tragedy indeed. The nearest cat owner was Ms. Hale, and _all_ her cats were black, so the kitten was surely hers.

Greer knocked tentatively on the ebony door. It swung open slowly, and there stood Esther hale, in all her glory. Her grey hair was tied up in a bun, but it was trying quite obviously to escape.

"What do you want?" she asked, glaring at the girl in front of her. Greer winced.

"We found this kitten, ma'am," Greer replied, holding up the black ball of fur. "I thought it might be yours." Immediately Ms. Hale took the kitten from her, examining it.

"Yes, that's Andromeda all right," the older woman admitted, frowning. "I've a buyer coming to see her this evening. Thank you for returning her." Ms. Hale looked down at Greer, who tried her best not to look uncomfortable. "Come in, why don't you," Ms. Hale said finally, stepping aside. "Girls shouldn't stand on doorsteps—it makes them look desperate."

"Um…thank…you?" Greer replied confusedly, stepping into the dark hallway. Ms. Hale led her to a dusty old parlor with a grand piano, and told her to wait there. Greer sat on the pale grey sofa, watching the cats. They were also watching her.

"There now," Ms. Hale remarked, setting a tea tray down on the coffee table. Greer nodded her thanks and started drinking hers. It had a rather bitter taste, like someone had knocked over several boxes of loose tea and dried herbs and had been unable to separate the mint from the thyme.

"What kind of cats do you breed, Ms. Hale?" Greer asked, looking back at the dark and foreboding animals.

"Black ones," Ms. Hale replied, rolling her eyes. "Are you blind?"

"No ma'am," Greer muttered, embarrassed.

"What was your name again?" Ms. Hale inquired, putting on a pair of cracked glasses and peering at Greer curiously.

"Greer Everett, ma'am," she answered, setting her cup down on its saucer. "I live just down the road."

"You may call me Ms. Hale. Enough with the ma'am." From within her puffy sleeves, Ms. Hale withdrew a small book. "I should think you'd make use of this, Greer. I'm long past needing it." Greer took the little leather-bound book, eyeing it warily.

"Thank you, ma'am—I mean, Ms. Everett—and I really should be taking my leave, it's almost…"

"Don't underestimate the power of the council," the old woman advised, and Greer was sure she wasn't making any sense at all. "Beware doorsteps, and do try to keep your leaves in order. They're rather hard to get organized." Assuming she was talking about the leaves of the book, Greer opened it, and one fell out. She hastily put it back in again.

"Thank you again, Ms. Hale." Greer stood, pocketing the small book. With that, Ms. Hale showed her to the door, and she went on her way.


	2. The Witch is Dead

"Greer," Mrs. Everett called. "There's someone here who wants to see you." Greer was glad she'd already finished with her makeup, because it was probably a boy. She'd just graduated from high school, and she knew that she had better get married fast or become a lonely secretary.

"Coming, Mother," she answered, racing down the stairs. The figure standing in the doorway was, indeed, a boy. He was also a stranger.

"Greer Everett?" He looked at her with dark, appraising eyes. Greer looked at him expectantly, maintaining the proper distance. "My name is Calipher Raeford. I'm Esther Hale's nephew." Greer waited. He didn't say anything else.

"So…" she said encouragingly.

"My aunt died," he said quietly.

"What does that have to do with…"

"She left you her house." Greer stared at him in shock. "She left you everything." She suddenly realized that Calipher was pretty upset about this, as well he should have been.

"I'm so sorry," Greer replied, taking a step closer. "I barely knew her…I have no idea why she would give everything to me. Surely there must be some mistake." The boy shook his head.

"I got the cats," he muttered, grinning with the air of one who had been totally screwed over.

"Could I give _you_ the house?" Greer asked, already trying to resolve a puzzling issue. He shook his head.

"She made it explicitly clear that when you move out of your parents' house, you will either move into hers, or sell it for its full value, which is far more than I could ever afford." He turned to leave. "I just thought I'd tell you personally. Her lawyers will be here to deliver the deed in a moment." Greer frowned, sure that something was totally wrong.

"Wait," she called out. He paused and turned. "Mr.…Calipher, is it?" He smirked.

"Cal is better," he admitted.

"Perhaps you should stay," Greer insisted. "Just in case there's some way I can help. I just hate to see you cheated out of your inheritance due to nothing but the whims of a very old, probably confused woman." Cal thought for a moment.

"Fine," he said quietly. "but it's a lost cause. My aunt never did like my side of the family. We're not as into black magic as she wanted us to be." Greer frowned.

"Did you say 'black magic'?" she inquired, remembering the book Ms. Hale had given her.

"You didn't know?" Cal looked surprised. "My aunt was a practicing witch, Miss Everett. I assumed you were, as well."


	3. Roomies for Now

Greer stood in the dark hall, looking around at the many portraits that lined the walls. Behind her stood Cal, holding their suitcases.

"So…you don't intend to go to college," he announced, pushing past her to set the cases down on the dining table. "That's really very lazy of you. No offense…thanks for letting me live in this house and all…even though I technically should own it…but you really want to be a housewife?" He looked at her with an emotion akin to disgust.

"Who are you to judge?" she shot back, putting her hands on her hips. "You're a 'writer'." She put extra emphasis on the last word. Calipher frowned.

"You don't understand the Bohemian lifestyle, I know, but that doesn't give you the right to belittle people," he grumbled. Setting his sights on the grand piano, he headed to the parlor. Greer sighed. Her parents wanted her to be a housewife, but who actually wanted to cook and clean for the rest of their life? Greer had never been good in school…she was too easily distracted. She didn't have the money for college, nor the stupidity and motherliness required for becoming a stay-at-home mom. Cal made being a witch sound pretty easy, though he didn't mean to, and the two were going to live in the old house at the dead end of Bird Street. Cal was 'living rough', as he said, until his writing skills were realized by the general public. After much consideration, Greer had invited him to live with her as a sort of live-in house manager. He was to clean and take care of the cats—which were his, anyway—and Greer would pay the bills…somehow.

"So…when do you intend to get a job?" Greer called out, looking towards the piano. Cal turned around mid-step.

"Job?" He looked horrified. "And give in to the mainstream? Never!" He reached for her hand, and before she knew what was happening, he was twirling her around the room. "Besides, my dear landlady," he added, "you haven't insisted that I pay rent. Therefore my life of sloth is none of your business."

"What about witchcraft?" Greer asked, getting dizzy. He stopped immediately, leaving her extremely disoriented.

"No," he said coldly. "There is absolutely no way you're forcing me to read that accursed book and perform my aunt's evil bidding." He turned to walk away.

"_I _need a way to pay the bills if you're to keep up your slothfulness, and _I _have the book." Calipher turned.

"Trust me," he said gravely, "if you try this, you'll wish you hadn't." Greer sighed, wondering how she was going to make things work.


End file.
